Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 30

Denouement

"It is not the beginning of the end. It may, however, be the end of the beginning." - Winston Churchill

***

"Harry?"

"Just another minute," Harry said, yanking determinedly at his school robes.

"You've been saying that for fifteen minutes," Ron persisted.

"Sorry. Almost ready." Harry reached for his wand to banish the mirror he'd conjured. Hermione would be proud that he'd remembered the charm, but he didn't really feel like telling her about it considering he'd spent nearly half the afternoon having a small, quiet panic attack in front of it. He ran his hands down his body once again, for perhaps the thousandth time. It had been six days, and it still felt like he was living in a stranger's skin.

"Harry." It was Hermione this time, sounding very firm.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." He threw one last, regretful look around the small, private world of his hospital bed, haven for nearly a week, then squared his shoulders and pushed through the curtains. Time to go.

"Huh," Ron said, surveying him from head to foot. "You'd think with all the time you spent in there, you would have at least figured out something to make your hair stay down."

"Like you have room to talk," Harry said, running a self-conscious hand over his head and wincing.

"Let him be, Ron," Hermione said, rising from her seat on the next bed over and reaching for her bag. "Come on, Harry, let's go. We'll be late for dinner."

"Okay," Harry said. "Dinner. Right." He took two quick steps towards the door, his heart swelling a little as Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny folded around him like a contingent of Aurors on bodyguard assignment. They were all acting as normal as possible, but he knew his anxiety had escaped none of them. He looked better, he really did, Harry could freely admit. The six days in the infirmary had done wonders for the pallor of his skin, as well as the state of his body. But considering what he had started with, that wasn't saying as much as Harry could have hoped. Neville had been released four days earlier, and according to him and Harry's other friends, rumors were running rampant, and growing more outrageous the longer Harry remained cloistered away. So, despite an overwhelming, and rather uncharacteristic, urge to beg Madam Pomfrey to let him stay a little longer, Harry knew it was time to leave.

Ginny moved closer to him, and her hand brushed his. "You look fine," she whispered as they stepped out into the corridor. "Don't worry."

Harry nodded gratefully and slipped his fingers unthinkingly into hers. She had spent a great deal of time at his bedside in the past six days, bringing him snacks from the kitchens, beating him at chess, bullying him into revising for his O.W.L.s. Hermione had begun giving them strange, speculative looks, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to tell her and Ron that they were dating. He was dating Ginny Weasley. That was still weird. He'd simply been too preoccupied with willing his body back to health to even contemplate dealing with telling people, and he was more than grateful when Ginny seemed to understand this without him having to say anything. But that wouldn't last forever, he was sure, and Hermione might beat them to it, anyway.

"How bad has the Prophet been?" Harry asked, glancing around him at the mostly empty corridors. They were running a bit late to dinner, entirely his own fault, but the few people around were making him plenty nervous all on their own as they stopped to whisper and stare.

"Bad," Ron said succinctly.

"Well actually," Hermione put in, "I know you won't think so, Harry, but it's been a good thing. It didn't take anybody long to connect the supposed demise of the Death Eater revolt with you being in the hospital wing and decide you'd taken care of it single-handedly. Good publicity, even untrue publicity, can only help your credibility later on when you'll need it."

"Great," Harry said morosely. "Just what I've always wanted."

"We weren't sure what we should do," Ron said. "We figured we'd just wait to see what Dumbledore said, which turned out to be nothing, so..." he trailed off and shrugged.

"The people who need to know the truth know it," Ginny said firmly. "And the ones who are smart enough to ask can ask."

"Hmm," Hermione said.

"I'm suddenly feeling sort of dizzy again," Harry said abruptly.

Ginny made a small, anxious noise and reached up to press her hand to his forehead. Hermione, on his other side, let out a disdainful snort.

"Don't bother," she snapped. "You're not going back to hide in the hospital wing. Honestly. You'd think you actually liked it there." She took his arm in a firm grip as they reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the doors to the Great Hall. "The sooner you do this, the better," she added more gently. "Come on. We're all right here."

It was just as bad as Harry had feared, but he found somewhat to his surprise that he could cope. It appeared, after five years, it was possible to get used to excessive scrutiny after all.

The five of them settled at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the doors, and the meal was almost, perhaps just a little bit, pleasant. Owing, Harry knew, entirely to the company. He worked through the meat pie with slow determination, still finding it difficult to believe he actually felt alright. It was funny, and more than a little scary, how easily a person could get used to feeling bad, to the point where they didn't even notice anymore.

"Everyone's being so nice to me," Neville confided over dessert. "It's very strange. People keep slapping me on the back and telling me it's good to have me home."

"Well it is," Harry said.

Neville flushed and smiled. "I just never realized so many people even knew who I was," he said a little wonderingly.

"Don't worry," Ron said oppressively. "They'll forget all about you again in a little while. They're good at that. I should know."

They didn't linger long at the table once they were done eating.

"Do I really need to say it?" Hermione asked as they rose.

"No," Ron and Harry chorused, exchanging an O.W.L. induced look.

"Then I won't," Hermione said, scowling pointedly. "But I expect to see you both, and you too, Neville, ready to work in half an hour."

"Yes'm," Neville said instantly.

Hermione beamed.

They piled out into the entrance hall, and Harry started to let the great doors swing shut behind them.

"Wait there, Harry," a voice called.

Harry peered anxiously back around the door, unwilling to be cornered by a hoard of curious students. But then he relaxed and flung the doors wide, then wider still to permit Hagrid's bulk to pass through.

"Good ter see yeh up and about," Hagrid boomed, patting Harry with what he probably thought was solicitous gentleness, but which actually rattled Harry's teeth in his head.

"Good to be up," Harry said.

"Listen," Hagrid said, sidling closer and casting Ginny a suspicious look. "Got somewhat ter show yeh."

"You do?" Harry asked a little anxiously. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Ron, Hermione, and Neville already at the stairs. Hermione looked back, then turned, waving a greeting at Hagrid. She raised her eyebrows at Harry, but he only sighed and shrugged, jerking his chin towards the stairs. Hagrid's surprises were always interesting. No need in making them all go.

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking back up at Hagrid.

"Well," Hagrid said, shifting awkwardly and looking pointedly at Ginny. "Yeh might say an old friend of yers turned up again today, yeh might." He tapped his nose and winked significantly.

"Oh," said Harry excitedly. "Really? Where is he?"

"Er..." Hagrid began uneasily.

"No, I want Ginny to come and meet him," Harry said, struck by the sudden and surprising realization that Ginny didn't know he had a godfathbr.

"Meet who?" she asked.

"You'll see," Harry said. "I've got a story to tell you. Come on, Hagrid, is he in your hut?"

"Jus' waitin' ter see yeh," Hagrid confirmed.

Harry found it difficult to maintain a normal pace on the way down to Hagrid's. On the one hand he wanted to run full out, to see Sirius again, safely returned, and hear any news. But on the other hand he had a lot to explain to a raptly listening Ginny, and it was a very involved story.

"I always knew there was a lot more going on than everyone heard about," she said as they approached the hut. "And Ron can be so insufferable sometimes, you know, telling Fred and George and me how he knows all this stuff he can't talk about. Mum always tells him to be quiet, and that if he felt the need to flaunt it maybe he shouldn't know at all." She paused a moment, lowering her voice. "Sirius Black? And you're sure he's not..."

"A raving, insane murderer?" Harry suggested. "Yeah, most days he's just fine. Come on. You'll like him."

Snuffles and Fang sat nose-to-nose before the fireplace in Hagrid's hut, regarding each other with deep suspicion. Snuffles tore himself away as they entered, letting out a single joyful bark and taking several leaping steps before he noticed Ginny. He skidded to a halt before them, tail and ears going up as he inspected her.

"Hullo," Ginny said, squaring her shoulders and extending her cupped hand for him to sniff.

"It's alright," Harry said, impressed and surprised with her composure. "This is my, er, my friend Ginny. I brought her to meet you."

Snuffles gave Ginny's hand a long, assessing sniff, then let loose a single, decisive tail thump. A moment later, Sirius was folding Harry close in a hug, nodding to Ginny over his shoulder.

"You must be the youngest Weasley. You look just like your father when he was young, though much prettier, of course. And as for you--" he stepped back, holding Harry at arm's length and examining him from head to toe. "Hmph," he said finally. "You look better, at least."

"Well thanks," Harry said, without much rancor. It was refreshing to have someone give him the dubious truth straight out. "I'm working on it," he added quietly.

"See that you are," Sirius said, giving him a small shake. "I expect you to be a regular pork chop by your birthday, you understand me?"

"I'll do my best," Harry said, laughing for the first time in several days.

Hagrid straightened up from the stove, bucket-sized teapot in hand. "I've got some new biscuits in," he announced proudly.

The four of them settled around Hagrid's table and spent one of the most pleasant evenings in Harry's recent memory. Sirius was at his most charming, Hagrid played host with his usual jovial good humor, Ginny was bright and talkative, and Harry simply soaked it in, stepping into the conversation only enough to remind them that he was there. Sirius waved off his brief absence with an airy dismissal, saying he'd simply had a few errands to run and moving the conversation along as quickly as possible. Harry decided not to press the issue, not then at least.

It didn't take his godfather long to pick up on the part about Harry and Ginny being Harry and Ginny now, either. Five minutes after they sat down he started throwing Harry congratulatory eyebrow jerks and exaggerated winks, less subtle than Hagrid on his worst days. Harry stomped on his foot under the table, then blinked innocently at the wounded glare he got for his trouble.

Sirius pulled him aside as Hagrid and Ginny began cleaning up the dishes. His godfather couldn't safely step outside in his human form, even with night rapidly descending, so they didn't have much privacy aside from the cover of Hagrid's voice and the clatter of the mugs and saucers.

"So," Sirius said, jerking his chin significantly at Ginny. "So."

"Uh-huh," Harry said noncommittally.

"Girlfriend?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, don't give me that," Sirius whispered. "She thinks you're a tall drink of water, she does."

"She thinks I'm a what?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Hmm," Sirius said, frowning. "Harry, perhaps we should have a bit of a chat--I offered before and you turned me down, I remember now. Yes, I think perhaps it's time that we sat down and had ourselves a nice, long conversation."

"Er, do we have to?" Harry asked worriedly.

Sirius made a face. "Let's put it this way," he said gravely. "Moony told me if I didn't do it, he would. And you don't want that, Harry, let me tell you. He'll have diagrams and charts and step-by-step instructions. You're much better off with me. I'll tell it how it really is."

"Er, okay," Harry said, a bit dubiously. He could admit, if only in the privacy of his own head, that hearing it how it really was might be a good thing, considering he had only the vaguest of ideas about the subject at hand. But the thought of any adult, even Sirius, telling it in any way sent an instinctive thrill of mortification down his spine.

"Right," Sirius said. "We'll do that. This summer sometime, alright? In the meantime..." he glanced quickly over at Ginny, then back to Harry. "Don't do anything I would do, you hear?"

"Okay," Harry said, and escaped out the door with a sigh of relief.

"I like him," Ginny said, slipping her hand into his as they started up the lawn.

"I'm glad," Harry said.

"Thanks for telling me about him," she continued. "It's nice to know how it really is."

Harry choked on air, coughed hard, then waved Ginny off as she patted him solicitously on the back. "Just breathed the wrong way," he wheezed. "Come on. Sirius said to go straight up to the castle. Bet he's watching us."

They chatted easily as they worked their way towards the main steps. The moon was waxing towards full as it rose in a clear, cloudless sky. Night insects and birds offered a gentle back beat as the singing rose bushes serenaded the night. Ginny's hand was warm in his, and her shoulder was warmer as they lightly bumped each other.

"Come here a minute," Ginny said suddenly as they reached the verge of the lawn. She pulled Harry, unprotesting, into the shelter of some low hanging branches of the trees that bordered the grass. It was darker beneath them, a midnight bower fragrant of spring blossoms. Harry's heart gave an anticipatory lurch as Ginny stepped closer.

"What?" he asked, flushing miserably as his voice squeaked.

"I think we need to tell Ron and Hermione about us," Ginny said softly. "You've had a lot on your mind, I know, but they'll only be mad if they find out later."

"Oh," Harry said, vastly disappointed. He'd thought they'd come here to...well, he wasn't entirely sure exactly what he'd thought, but he was positive it had involved snogging, and had not involved Ron or Hermione. "Er," he said, scrambling a bit. "Yeah, er, I agree. With that. Yeah. We should tell them."

"Good," Ginny said, her voice still low. "We can do it right when we get back to the common room. Ron has these moronic ideas about protecting me, you know, but I'm pretty sure he won't try to rip out your lungs over Hermione's notes."

"Pretty sure?" Harry repeated.

"Almost positive," Ginny reassured.

"But that won't stop him from doing it in my sleep tonight," Harry said. He winced, recalling in suddenly vivid detail just how Ron had reacted to a boy taking his sister to the Yule Ball in an entirely platonic fashion. He could probably outrun Ron, but--

"Harry?" Ginny said.

"Yeah?" Harry asked distractedly.

"Stop worrying," she said, and kissed him.

They hadn't done much kissing since the first night, and nothing more than a quick brush of her lips against his behind the furtively drawn curtains around his bed. Things were very, very different, Harry discovered, when he was standing up, when he could slide his hands around her waist and up her back, when she could lean into him with her whole body. He closed his eyes as they kissed over and over again, and had to work hard to remind himself to do the things he'd learned girls liked; sucking on her tongue, biting gently at her lower lip, keeping track of both their noses. He slid one hand up to touch her hair, then held both her shoulders. It occurred to him in a sudden, visceral jolt that he could feel no tell-tale straps beneath her robes, nothing like what he'd seen some of the older boys snapping on girls on the playground when he'd gone to Muggle school. Witches probably had something a little different than Muggle bras, he thought dizzily, and felt a mad rush of prickling heat sweep him from head to toe as he tried to imagine just what that could be.

They broke apart panting, and pressed their foreheads together for a moment.

"We should go back inside," Harry said reluctantly. It had occurred to him, well after the fact, that this was something that would doubtless fall under the heading of things Sirius would do. Probably had done, when he was Harry's age.

"Curfew," Ginny agreed with a sigh. "And Ron and Hermione."

"Oh, right," Harry said, stepping back. "Them, too. How could I forget."

They emerged from the cover of the trees and headed for the castle, keeping a decorous distance between them. Harry found himself wondering, as they made their way up to Gryffindor, why it had been so much easier to talk to each other before they'd snogged like that. Very strange.

"You ready?" Ginny asked as they reached the Fat Lady.

"Uh, sure," Harry said, unable to convince even himself.

Ginny patted him reassuringly. "I was only kidding about the ripping your lungs out thing." She paused, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Well, mostly kidding."

"Great," Harry said. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"Think about it this way. Anything Ron could do will be nothing compared to Bill and Charlie. Triple-Snouted Snood," she added to the patiently waiting Fat Lady.

Harry followed her into the crowded common room and made automatically for their corner where Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat.

"Thank Merlin," Ron said dramatically as they approached. "Look over there, Hermione, new victim!"

"Where've you been?" Hermione asked, ignoring him completely.

"Hagrid's," Harry said, coming to a stop by the table. Ginny slipped past him and sat down.

"Snuffles is back," she said.

"Cool," Ron said, then stopped, his head coming around to gape at her. "How do you know about Snuffles?"

"I told her," Harry said.

Ron spluttered a moment, pointing a quivering finger between them. "Why'd you go and do a thing like that? She talks like a...like a--"

"Ron," Hermione said sharply. "If Harry wanted to tell Ginny, he can tell Ginny. It's up to him and Snuffles, not you or me." Ron subsided with a few more mutinous looks, and Hermione smiled benevolently around the table. "Now. Harry, you've missed some important Charms revision, but we can catch you up later. Sit down, then, and where are your notes? Oh, why do I bother, you'll just want to copy mine. I'm sorry, Ginny, I know this must be overwhelming, but if you revise now you'll have a good head start for next year."

"Er, actually," Harry said, cutting into Hermione in full flow, "I had something to tell you guys."

"What?" Ron asked, pushing his parchments away with obvious relief. "Something important? Do we have to run off right now and capture some Death Eaters, or--or save a kitten? Or something? Anything?"

"Nothing like that," Harry said apologetically.

"Well, what then?" Ron asked.

"Er." Harry shifted his feet, clasped then unclasped his hands. "I, that is we, er we've decided that we should maybe tell you that we've come to the realization that, er--"

"We're dating," Ginny cut in.

There was a short silence.

"We as in...?" Ron said finally.

"We as in Harry and me," Ginny said calmly.

"You as in Harry and you," Ron repeated.

"Yes."

"Dating?"

"Yes."

"Dating. As in each other?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "Dating. As in each other. Like you and me, remember?"

"You--you knew about this?" Ron demanded.

"Not exactly," Hermione said. "I suspected of course, but I thought I'd wait to say anything until Harry did. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks," Harry said, breaking his silence. He'd been quite happy to let Ginny explain the finer points to Ron.

"Wow," Neville said, blinking at them. "Dating. Wow. What's that like?"

"It's, uh..." Harry floundered, looking around for help.

"It's very nice," Hermione said, giving Ron a significant look. "At least most of the time." She turned her smile on Ginny. "It just started this week, right?"

"The day after you brought Neville back," Ginny said. "I went to see Harry in the hospital wing, and well..."

"That sounds very sweet," Hermione said.

"You're dating my sister," Ron said abruptly, staring at Harry.

"Er, yes," Harry said.

"I think I'm supposed to sock you for it," Ron said, flexing his hands uncertainly.

"Oh Ron," Hermione said. "Don't be silly. Who better to date your sister than Harry? He's your best friend. You already like him, and you know he's not a psychotic murderer or a Slytherin or cruel to animals."

"Or a Catapults fan," Ginny put in helpfully.

"Huh," Ron said. "I'll have to think about this. Ask Fred and George what they think."

"You do that," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "In the meantime, sit down, Harry. We have a lot of things to cover before bedtime."

Harry sat between Ginny and Neville and reached for his notes. Ron was still looking at them through slightly narrowed, baffled eyes, but Hermione was the picture of unruffled serenity, not a hair or an opinion out of place in the wake of their news. Harry stared hard at her for a moment, fighting a strange surge of resentment. But then he looked at Ginny, found her looking back, and dragged up a smile from somewhere. It was over, they all knew. Now all he had to do was survive the rest of the school year, pass his O.W.L.s, and convince Ron that he really didn't need to be socked. Easy.

***

The following weeks were every horrible thing Harry had been told to expect, plus much more. Harry felt like a poor, beleaguered mule passed from one whip-carrying taskmaster to the next. No sooner did he escape the day's classes and the auspices of professors who seemed to have been temporarily possessed by demons who continuously barked complicated questions and assigned Herculean amounts of revision, then he was set upon by Hermione, grim-faced and tight-lipped, wielding her carefully devised revision schedule and every book they'd ever been assigned. Harry swore he could hear his brain creaking and moaning under the strain of all the information being forcibly crammed into it. He was dimly aware of his fellow fifth years, as well as their seventh year counterparts, floating through the days like ghosts, rarely speaking unless it was to ask to borrow notes or an invitation to study together. The only thing that made the entire process marginally pleasant was the gorgeous spring weather that allowed them to take themselves, their books, and their worries outside to the lawn and the lake. Ginny had her own exams to study for, though admittedly not nearly as taxing as the O.W.L.s, and the extent of their daily contact usually amounted to sitting next to each other for hours on end, doing completely separate things.

They spent the final Sunday before the exams under a tree by the lake, covering what Hermione called "trouble spots," and what Harry simply called "the things I do not and will never understand."

"It's a matter of magiphysics," Hermione was explaining. "You know you can't do absolutely anything you want with magic. What you can do is determined by the complex melding of factors including, but not limited to, situation, wand make-up, geographic location, time of year, the will of the wizard--you can quantify these things, but only so far."

"So?" Harry said blankly.

"So, with the Evigilo Charm, it's much more effective in late winter and early spring. It can be successful at other times, but it takes a very accomplished mediwizard with a great deal of will power and a very impressive wand to do it. Just think of it like bears waking from hibernation. They do it in the spring, remember it that way. It's quite interesting, really--the physiological response the charm engenders is very much like the changes in animals as they emerge from hibernation. But that's not important--just remember bears. Evigilo. Got it?"

"What if we were in Australia?" Ron asked curiously.

"Then it would be harder in fall there, too, except their fall would be our spring," Hermione said. "The magic flows with the seasons based on your geographic location. Here, let's go over the list of seasonally-influenced charms again. You'll need to know these, even if we won't have to perform them."

"Hold on," Harry said. "What charm were we talking about again?"

"Vigilo," Hermione said.

"Wait, no," Harry said, blinking from her to his notes. "I have Evigilo here."

"Well then you wrote it down wrong," Hermione snapped.

"They're your notes."

Hermione snatched them away, scowling fiercely as she scanned the appropriate page. After a moment her face crumpled. "Oh," she said in a very small voice. "Uh, yes. Evigilo. Vigilo is similar, but not the same spell at all. I don't know how I could have mixed them up--a mistake like that on the O.W.L.s could be disastrous. Merlin, I should go over my complete list of charms we've covered again. I'm obviously--"

"Hermione?" Harry said quietly.

"What?" she asked, reaching for her bag.

"Er, your hands are shaking," Harry said gently. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, very quickly. "Just fine."

"Maybe we should take a break," Ron said worriedly.

Hermione reared back as if they'd slapped her. "A break? We can't take a break. These exams will determine--"

"Right," Harry said, slapping down his quill and going up on his knees in the grass. "We're all going to stand up right now and walk around the lake. Slowly. Maybe twice. And we're not going to bring any notes or any books, and we're not going to talk about anything remotely related to school or O.W.--you know. Those things. Come on. Let's go."

Hermione protested, but Harry and Ron each took a side and dragged her to her feet. "We only have sixteen hours," she said, digging her heels in.

"Come on," Harry said stubbornly. "We're going. We'll all think better when we get back. We've been at this for weeks. For years. Is an hour going to make that much difference?"

Hermione slumped, scrubbing a still trembling hand across her face. Her eyes were sunken and dark-ringed, her skin unhealthily pale. Harry wondered just why it was that Hermione, the person who needed to worry least about exams, was always the one who worried most. It was sort of scary seeing her like this, desperate and tensed to quivering alertness, and very much afraid. He suspected she had been badly spooked by the side-effects of the Manifestation. He wasn't sure, and he hadn't dared talk to her about it, but he had an idea that for Hermione, one of the greatest and most horrible violations imaginable was not controlling her actions, but limiting the scope and strength of her mind.

They walked around the lake twice, and Harry felt his own tension, and the lingering edges of his revision-induced headache, fading away beneath the warm sun. It was very difficult to have a panic attack while watching the Giant Squid splashing about in the shallows, carefree and content. By the time they returned to their tree, it was late afternoon, and a sense of calm inevitability had settled over them. They'd done the best they could, and there was no sense panicking during the little time they had left. Harry was surprised to discover, in the absence of it, just how nervous he had really been.

Dinner that night was subdued. The examiners had arrived that morning, and the staff table had been lengthened to accommodate them. The fifth and seventh years clumped at the end of the Gryffindor table farthest from them, trading nervous bets on who would be examined by whom, trying to decide simply by appearance which ones marked the hardest.

Harry slept surprisingly well that night, and though he woke nervous and tense, he wasn't nearly as panicked as some. He and Ron had to physically pry the Potions book from Neville's white-knuckled fingers to get him down to breakfast.

"Just a few more minutes," Neville pleaded feverishly.

"Come and eat," Harry said. "It'll help more than a few more minutes of reading."

"Potions, Harry. Potions!"

"I know." Harry was trying very hard not to see it as a bad omen that Potions was their first exam. "Come on," he urged, tugging at Neville. "It'll all be over in just a few days."

"Yeah, it will," Neville said gloomily. "No help, then."

The Potions exam was doubly nerve-wracking, both because it was the first O.W.L. and simply because it was Potions. Harry and Ron had decided to adopt a realistic strategy in approaching Potions, though, with Hermione's grudging approval. They knew they weren't about to get an Outstanding, or even an Exceeds Expectations. All they really wanted was to pass with a modicum of dignity. They'd devoted a great deal of time to the subject in the previous weeks, but not as much as other subjects where they had more chance to do well.

"Not bad," Harry said after it was over. "I actually think I did better on the practical than the written."

"Opposite for me," Ron said. "But at least there's a better in that sentence."

The week passed in a flurry of test parchments and stern examiners. The night after the Transfiguration exam, on which he thought he'd done very well, he dreamt that the whole pack of examiners was chasing him, shouting endless and nonsensical questions as they brandished his written exams.

If the week had started out on the wrong note, Harry couldn't think how it could end better. His second to last exam was Defense Against the Dark Arts, the one he was most confident about. The written was long and complicated, but he was pretty sure he'd gotten it mostly right. He sailed through the practical, performing every spell asked of him without breaking a sweat. He left the Great Hall grinning triumphantly, leaving an obviously pleased examiner in his wake.

The last exam was Divination. It had been a bit more difficult for Harry and Ron to study without Hermione and her encyclopedic notes, or to study at all for that matter. But Harry had come to realize that there was nothing particularly challenging about Divination. All they really had to do was memorize enough of the endless tables of signs and meanings and metals and dates, and make up the rest. The written went as well as Harry could have hoped, and he approached the practical with a deep and growing sense of relief. Almost done.

"Hello again," the examiner, a Professor Marmaduke Fletcher, said cheerfully. He had administered Harry's Charms exam, but Harry could forgive him that because he seemed like such a nice fellow.

"Hullo," Harry said, sitting down at the small table set into an alcove of the Great Hall. "What do I need to do?"

Fletcher pushed a deck of cards towards him with a weathered hand. "Not too much," he said, his craggy face softening with a smile. "Just deal for yourself and then me, and give me your reading. What's your birthday?"

Harry dealt and read, then again, finding the exercise easy enough. The cards were simple enough once you learned what meant what, and Harry's memory seemed to be on his side that day.

"Just one more thing, then," Fletcher said, gathering up the cards. "And then you'll be done."

Harry couldn't suppress an anticipatory grin. "What is it?"

"Here we are," Fletcher said, producing a crystal ball and setting it before Harry. "Now then. Take a gander, tell me if anything pops out at you." His lips twitched just a little, and Harry leaned forward, reassured. He was getting the strong impression that Fletcher had the same opinion of Divination that he did, and that as long as he appeared to have learned the important associations, he would be alright. Harry's heart was light as he squinted into the ball and tried to come up with something innocuous to say.

"Try taking your glasses off," Fletcher said after a short pause, his wink just shy of conspiratorial. "I find things are actually a bit clearer when they're fuzzy around the edges."

Harry complied, setting his glasses on the table and folding his hands over them. He leaned closer to the ball, focusing on the swirling mists within it. Without his glasses they seemed even more vague and formless, enveloping all he could see, all he could think in shifting white. Harry squinted hard, then just relaxed. It was almost over. All he had to do was think of something interesting, but not too outrageous, to say, and then he could go relax and play chess with Ron and sleep for a week.

"Alright then," Professor Fletcher's voice said, as if from far away. Harry jumped, disoriented for a moment as he looked away from the crystal ball. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," Fletcher said, reaching for the ball.

"But I didn't say what I--" Harry began.

"Yes yes, that's just fine," Fletcher said hurriedly.

Harry stood uncertainly, blinking at the man writing frantically on the ever-present examiner's parchment. "Then I can go? I'm done?" he asked.

Fletcher glanced up distractedly. "Oh yes. Thank you, young man. Very good, very good. You'll receive your results in late July or early August."

"Er, thanks then," Harry said, and backed out of the alcove. He imagined the examiners were probably as eager to have this all over with as the students were, and as long as it didn't impact his mark he couldn't honestly care that Fletcher hadn't given him enough time to say anything as he crystal gazed.

"Harry," someone hissed nearby. Harry looked over and saw Padma just emerging from the alcove to his left. They exchanged a triumphant 'we're finished!' look, then made for the main doors as fast as they could.

"Thank Merlin," Harry sighed as soon as they were out in the hall.

"I know," Padma said, pushing her hair off her face with a great, gusty sigh.

Neville emerged behind them, dazed but smiling. He nearly ran smack into Padma, who jumped back and steadied herself against the wall.

"Oh, sorry Parvati," Neville said, blinking owlishly at them.

"Padma," she said, straightening up. "Parvati's sister. We went over Orthenogenic Transfigurations the other day in the library, remember?"

"Oh yes." Neville brightened considerably. "Thank you so much. That was on the exam and I remembered what you said perfectly."

Harry clapped Neville on the shoulder. "See?" he said softly. "It really wasn't so bad."

"No," Neville said. "It really--I can't even believe it--but it was really...mostly...okay." Neville had been a man on a mission in the past weeks, Harry knew. He had rivaled Hermione for intensity and sheer endurance when it came to revision. Harry imagined he was trying to make up for the past five years of forgetfulness and confusion in a few weeks of frantic learning. It had left him thin and strained, but apparently whole on the other side.

"I'm going out to the lake," Harry said, glancing longingly out the open main doors to the beautiful day outside. "I'm going to lay in the grass and make pictures in the clouds and think about absolutely nothing. Want to come?"

They followed him out, all three chatting companionably, any divisions of house or past history completely irrelevant in the universal, overwhelming relief. Ron and Hermione joined them a few minutes later, and other friends and acquaintances trickled in, making an informal party out beneath the trees. Ginny emerged just before dinner from her regular afternoon classes, grumbling that she still had to study for her final exams that would take place in the last week of the term. It was a lovely afternoon in lovely company, everyone content enough simply to be through it not to be worrying about results just yet. Harry was true to his word. He sprawled himself out in the sweet-scented grass at the lake edge, half in sun, half in shade, his head cradled in Ginny's lap as he looked for pictures in the banks of fluffy, cotton-ball clouds.

***

The remainder of the school year slipped easily away. The only thing Harry had to worry about was the final Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Given that all but one member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been taking O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, it wasn't surprising that their practice time had been insignificant in recent weeks. Harry's only consolation was that the Ravenclaws were just as bad off, if not worse. Both teams did their best to make up the lost time, jockeying for possession of the Quidditch Pitch at all hours of the day, and, until Madam Hooch found out, sometimes the night as well. But when the actual game arrived neither side was entirely up to snuff. It was one of the most error-ridden games Harry had ever played in. He lost count of the number of fumbles and drops and missed goals. It was downright embarrassing, and not the glorious finish any of them had been hoping for. The deciding factor turned out to be neither Harry nor the Snitch, but instead Fred and George, who had, if rumor was to be believed, sworn a blood oath that they would leave Hogwarts with the Quidditch Cup safely in Gryffindor hands. They worked as a seamless unit, keeping control of the Bludgers and ensuring that, as many mistakes as Gryffindor made, Ravenclaw made just a few more. They bought the team enough time, as well as a slim ten-point margin, for the Snitch to make an appearance and for Harry to catch it in an entirely anti-climactic mid-air grab. The crowd went duly wild, but Harry was very pleased to see the adulation directed to where it was most deserved--the triumphantly grinning, and much relieved, twins.

"We failed our N.E.W.T.s, you know," Fred shouted to him over the uproar. "Mum's going to skin us. But we figure this way, we'll have dad on our side, at least a little bit."

Classes for the fifth and seventh years were little more than a joke. The professors didn't assign anything, and Harry was pretty sure no one would have listened even if they had. Some like McGonagall and Snape did make them read subject-related materials, but there were no exams, no questions. Most other classes, like Herbology, were simply opportunities to laze about outside and talk about anything and everything.

Before Harry knew it, Ginny was through with her year-end exams, and the closing feast was upon them. He sat at the Gryffindor table with a growing sense of unreality, unable to believe that another year was gone, that in two years that would be him saying goodbye to everyone like the seventh years were doing.

"What are your plans?" everyone kept asking, and Harry could sympathize with the students like Angelina who didn't have an answer.

"Aren't you nervous, not having a plan?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Angelina shrugged. "Yes," she said simply. "But, well, I don't have a plan. I don't know what I want. I'll live at home for a while until...I don't know." She shrugged again and Hermione nodded in understanding.

"It's hard, not knowing where you're going," she said softly.

Ron turned from where he had been messing about with the twins. "Say, Hermione," he began, "what are your plans for after school? What do you want to be?"

Hermione busied herself with the pumpkin juice, her face averted. "I don't know yet," she said coolly.

Ron blinked. "Really? You don't know?"

"No. I don't."

"Wow," Ron said, wide-eyed. "I thought for sure you'd have it all figured out."

"I don't," Hermione repeated, a little more sharply. "Do you?"

"Well, no," Ron said. "I mean, I'd like to be a professional Quidditch star, but I really don't see that happening. But you--you really don't know what you want to do?"

"I really don't," Hermione said, looking up at them. "I just...I have no idea what I want."

"Me either," Harry said, entering the conversation for the first time. "I don't think we should feel bad over that, though. We have two years. And even longer, if we want. I mean, look at Angelina. We don't have to know for sure, right?"

"Right," Ron said promptly. Hermione only looked away and shrugged a little. It must bother her a great deal, Harry thought, not knowing. She liked to know things, including things about herself.

The feast wound to a close as darkness fell over the magical ceiling. To his surprise, Harry found that he wasn't displeased when the house cup went to Ravenclaw. They deserved it, he'd seen the point tallies himself, and there was always next year.

Dumbledore's final words to them were brief and to the point. "Many of you are leaving these halls for the last time," he said, his voice quiet but carrying in the respectful silence. "To you, I wish courage, fortitude, and determination, as well as a healthy dose of luck. Please remember the things you have learned here at Hogwarts, not the least of which is that life becomes an infinitely more precious commodity when you learn to laugh about it. I know I will see many of you again as you take your places in the community, and make your choices about the paths your lives will follow. Whatever you choose, wherever you find yourself, I wish you to know that Hogwarts doors will always, always be open to you. There is no student, not a single one of you, whom I would not be happy to take back to the Hogwarts hearth, should you wish it." He surveyed them all, eye falling equally on each house table. "For the rest of you," he continued finally, "who will be returning again next year, I can only hope that the coming years will be as fruitful as this one. Hogwarts will be ready in the fall, as it always has been, to welcome you back. Be safe, and be kind to each other." He bowed his head for a moment, then sat.

"Has there been any change with You Know?" Ron asked in a whisper as conversation slowly resumed around the hall.

"Not that I know of," Harry said quietly. "Dumbledore hasn't told me anything, and I think he would." He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "But there won't be any change, I don't think. Not for a while. Voldemort was hurt pretty badly. It will take some time for him to recover."

"Are you sure he's not dead?" Ron asked a little doubtfully. "I mean, you said he was knocked flat by that feather. Do you think it was like you put the spells in the feather and then hit him with it?"

"Sort of," Harry said musingly. "But no, he's not dead. I'm sure. I think I would know if he died. For good and always, I mean." His hand rose involuntarily to touch his scar, and he jerked it back with some difficulty. "He's still alive," he said. "He may be out of things for a while, but he'll be back. And in the meantime, I think we have a little time in the clear to get ready."

"Time with the Ministry and most of the public believing it's all over," Hermione said dourly.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's going to be an interesting summer."

"We'll visit," Ron said comfortingly. "We can this year, and we definitely will. A wizard cottage for those Muggles. Blimey, it'll be grand, won't it?"

They were up half the night. All of Gryffindor was, with the exception of a handful of first and second years. Harry spent the evening sharing a sofa with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, exchanging farewells and summer plans with everyone. There was a comfortably subdued party atmosphere, and not even Professor McGonagall's halfhearted orders to "get all of you to bed this instant," could dampen it.

The next day dawned clear and bright, and Harry did some frantic, last minute packing before racing down to catch a horseless carriage to the train. Hagrid was at the platform, shepherding students along with gentle prods of his giant umbrella as the train puffed and whistled, its doors invitingly open.

"See yeh next year, Harry," he called cheerfully, waving an enormous hand.

"Will you be here this summer?" Harry asked, jogging over to stand in the lee of his friend's substantial bulk.

"Partly, partly," Hagrid said. "Someone's gotta be here, keep an eye on things, and Professor Dumbledore will be very busy. Come 'ere with you, then." He bent and squashed the breath out of Harry in a giant-sized hug. "Have fun this summer," he said, for Harry's ears only. "Don't worry yer head too much. Not yet."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, knowing that was nearly impossible. "See you in September."

"Oh by the way," Hagrid said, releasing him with a wide grin. "Yeh've got something ter look forward ter. Old friend of yer's might jus' be comin' back next year. Grand times, grand times."

"Who?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"Look sharp there," Hagrid said. "Yeh'll miss the train. Go on then."

Harry went, ducking into the last car as the doors began to close. His friends were waiting for him, impatiently holding a compartment door open as the train began to move. Harry staggered a step, then regained his balance with a hand against the wall. He was only going to ride this train four more times after this, he realized suddenly. The thought was immediate and frightening, as if he would be done with his Hogwarts years tomorrow.

"Come on," Ron said. "We've got a long ride to go."

The End